All the Pretty Horses

You ever think about dying?

Yeah. You?

Yeah. Some.

You think there's a heaven?

Yeah. Don't you?

I don't know.

Yeah, maybe.

You think you can believe there's a heaven if you don't believe in hell?

I guess you can believe what you want to.

This ranch has been in my family

as long as anyone can remember.

My granddaddy used to tell me this was heaven on earth,

just like his granddaddy used to tell him.

Everything's changed now since he died.

- I appreciate you lightin' them candles. - Como?

Las candelas. Las velas.

My mother?

Si.

She was here?

Si.

All I ever wanted was to live out there like he did,

work my own spread.

Can't imagine no better life.

I've come to find out mama aims to sell it.

Says the oil company'd pay three times what it's worth.

Mama lives in San Antonio now with her new husband.

May the lord bless and keep you.

She wants to be in live theater.

As your granddaddy's only child, your mother inherits outright.

It's her property now. She can do whatever she wants with it.

I don't have any say-so?

What about my father?

They're divorced.

You could talk to her.

- You're a lawyer. - Well, I have talked to her, but...

It's a sorry piece of business, but, son,

not everybody thinks that life on a cattle ranch in west Texas

is the second best thing to dyin' and goin' to heaven.

She don't wanna live out there, that's all.

If it was a payin' proposition, that'd be one thing, but it ain't.

It could be. I could run it.

It's his own damn fault.

Your father signed every piece of paper she set in front of him,

never lifted a hand to save himself.

- I told him to get a lawyer, hell, I begged him. - Well...

I'm sorry not to have no better news for you, son,

but some things in this world can't be helped,

and I believe this is probably one of 'em.

She went back to San Antonio.

Don't call her "she."

Mama.

You know I thought the world of that old man, don't you?

Yeah.

Don't go crying on me now.

- I ain't. - Well, don't.

I ain't.

What do you think I should do?

I don't think there's much you can do.

Will you talk to her?

I can't talk to her.

You could talk to her.

Last conversation I had with her

was in San Diego, California, in 1942.

It ain't her fault.

I ain't the same as I once was.

I like to think I am,

but I ain't.

You are, inside.

Inside, you are.

It's hard to watch the very people you came from waste away right before your eyes.

And when the land is gone, too,

I reckon there's nothing to stand on or stand for, either.

When do y'all have to be out?

Closing's the first of June.

You could wait till then.

What for?

Down in Mexico,

they got ranches so big,

you can't ride from one end to the other in a week.

It ain't all fenced in and sold off and played out.

Not down there.

You think they can't use two more top hands?

Real cowboys?

Just like the old-time waddies.

If I don't go, will you go anyways?

I'm already gone.

- Is that you, bud? - You'd better hope so.

- You ready? - Yeah.

They suspect anything?

No.

- Let's go. - Hang on a minute. I gotta pile all this stuff...

- Yonder goes the light. - Damn!

You gonna be late for your own funeral.

He could just be gettin' him a glass of milk or something.

He could just be loadin' a shotgun. Yeah.

Lacey, shut up. Lacey.

There's been somebody following us.

- Somebody a-horseback? - Yeah.

Come on.

Some kid. That's a hell of a horse.

Ain't it, though?

You huntin' us?

No, I ain't huntin' you.

Then how come you followin' us?

I ain't. I'm goin' to langtry.

- I don't even know who y'all are. - Where'd you get that horse?

- This is my horse. - How old are you?

Sixteen.

You're a lyin' sack of spit!

- You don't know everything. - I know you ain't no God damn 16.

What'd you do, run off?

What if I did?

- We could sell this horse in Mexico. - Yeah. You want to?

- I ain't diggin' no grave like we done that last one. - Hell, that was your idea.

I was the one that said just leave him for the buzzards.

Call it.

Heads.

Damn!

Let me have your rifle.

It ain't fair. You shot the last three.

You go on then. You can owe me.

Better hold his horse. Might not be gun-broke.

Y'all ain't never shot nobody.

What makes you think you wouldn't be a good somebody to start with?

Y'all just funnin'. I knowed it all along.

Who's huntin' you?

Nobody.

They're huntin' that horse though, ain't they?

You ain't ridin' with us. Get us throwed in the jailhouse.

- He belongs to me! - Son, I don't give a shit who he belongs to,

but he damn sure don't belong to you.

Now, let's go, bud.

I thought he'd put up more of a argument.

We ain't seen the last of his skinny ass.

That's her, ain't it?

That's the God damn Rio Grande.

Just think,

over yonder's old Mexico.

Yep.

You reckon you wanna cross now?

Yeah. You?

Yeah.

Maybe we'd better rest these horses up first.

All right.

Shit.

I got a uneasy feelin' about that little son of a bitch.

I do too.

He ain't as green as he looks, neither.

There won't nobody be huntin' me in Mexico.

- That all depends on what you done. - What's your name?

Jimmy blevins.

You got any grub?

No.

You got any money?

No.

You're just a deadhead.

Just tell me one thing,

what the hell would we want you with us for?

'Cause I'm a American.

When'd you eat last?

Other day.

Your name ain't blivet, is it?

Blevins.

You know what a blivet is?

No, what?

A blivet's 10 pounds of shit in a 5-pound sack.

- Y'all ain't said what y'all's names was. - I'm John Grady Cole.

This here's Lacey rawlins.

We're from San Angelo. Where you from?

Uvalde county, near the sabinal river.

What made you light out for Mexico, blevins?

Same reason as you.

What reason is that?

'Cause you know they'd go bowlegged and blind findin' your ass down here.

There ain't nobody huntin' me.

I told that son of a bitch he wasn't whuppin' me again,

- and he didn't. - Your daddy?

No. My daddy never did come back from the war.

Your stepdaddy.

Yeah.

Lord, I know what it's like to get a beatin'.

You didn't shoot him, did you?

I would've, and he knowed it.

Suppose we want to trade that horse off there

for one less likely to get us shot.

I ain't tradin' horses.

We ain't no God damn wet nurses.

- Well, I can take care of myself. - Sure, you can.

Hell, you're a regular ol' desperado, ain't you?

I reckon you got your own gun and everything.

Well, yeah, I got a gun.

What kind of a gun?

30-220 Colt.

Bullshit!

Well, that's a rifle cartridge. Let's see it.

Where'd you get a gun like this?

At the gettin' place.

You ever shot it?

- Yeah, I shot it. - Can you hit anything with it?

Anything you want.